


Justice

by littlesinner



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Injustice: Gods Among Us, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Brutality, Graphic Description, M/M, Past Character Death, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 04:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12473480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesinner/pseuds/littlesinner
Summary: Clark comes to talk to Bruce about his actions as of late.





	Justice

Bruce Wayne was aware of Superman’s presence long before he entered the room.

It was a difficult thing to set-up censors for Superman without the Man of Steel hearing or seeing them in any way, something that had taken him well over a year to figure-out. He would be able to hear a silent alarm the minute he set it off, and he would be able to see a tripwire or a laser, even if he wasn’t able to see the tiny devices buried in the walls of the manor. True, most of Gotham’s buildings were made of lead, so he didn’t have any problems with a peeking alien watching him work, but he still needed to find some kind of way to be sure Superman wouldn’t get too close, at least without Bruce’s notice.

He’d made some sacrifices for his plan, ones he was more than willing to pay if it meant some goddamn privacy once in a while. Planting pebbles of Kryptonite in every crack of the city sidewalk had taken months of preparation, tiny slivers at a time so that Superman wouldn’t notice the difference, just-enough so that he would start to weaken the minute he hit the Gotham skyline. Bruce had overheard him complaining to Alfred about the smog in Gotham and how it affected his powers a few times, and Alfred had more than agreed, suggesting that Superman write an article about it in the next morning’s paper while he was over for tea and a chat.

Alfred didn’t know, of course. He would have stopped Bruce, would have called him insane for hurting his supposed best friend. He just didn’t understand—this was for the good of the world.

It was a slow burn, to bring the alien down to human level, while Bruce collected the necessary tools to take him out, should something go wrong. It wasn’t just Superman of course—Bruce was an equal-opportunity man. A mace that belonged to Nergal that caused magic plague to break-out along those that were hit by it was stored-away in his weapons vault with Diana in mind, and enough fear gas to make them all exhaust themselves out long before he needed to exert any effort was on him at all times, with his other Aces in the hole.

He sat there, completely undisturbed by the Man of Steel approaching him, having tripped off several silent alarms without even knowing it, thanks to Bruce’s precautions. The Batman didn’t move from his seat, having already slipped the Kryptonite ring on his finger long before the man came down to his Cave, if the sheer amount of the green rock in his cave alone didn’t already bring him down to a mortal man without even trying.

“We need to talk.”

The words were hard, spoken with the authority of a parent scolding their child, and Bruce still didn’t look away from his screen, calmly watching the League through the monitors while they went-about monitor duty. Hal Jordan seemed tired, he noticed. He would have to mark that down—he didn’t want another _Parallax_ incident to happen again, that would need some tending-to.

“Bruce, are you _listening_? We need to _talk_.”

“Then talk.” He replied without emotion, locking the keyboard, but not turning-off the computer. He could almost _hear_ the way that Superman’s lips set into a thin frown, and he rolled his knuckles under the Kevlar glove, watching, waiting for the inevitable _lecture_ from Superman.

“You’re not acting right lately.” Superman said, taking a few steps forward. “Not since...”

“Not since what, _Kal-El_?”

He could hear the step taken back by the alien. “Not...not since Lex killed Selina. Listen, I _know_ how it is. I’ve lost a lot of people I care about, I’ve lost my wife and my kids...but that’s no reason to start doing this, treating us like your enemies. I’m not your enemy, Bruce. We’ve saved the world together, we can’t let something like this get in the way...”

Bruce suddenly stood up in a motion so fast that it sent Superman taking another step back, half-stumbling against the seat. Bruce’s finger was in Superman’s face, the one with the kryptonite ring on it, and he could see the surprise registering in Superman’s face, and Bruce only felt a burning, malicious glee that he had made _Superman_ take a step back.

“No, you don’t. You’ve had an _easy_ fucking life compared to me, Kal-El. You don’t even remember losing your parents, you didn’t watch your kids fucking _die_ right in front of your eyes. You didn’t lose _Silver_ or have Talia _lie_ to you or watch your second son get _impaled_. You don’t get anything, so why don’t you just _shut the fuck up_ and _get out_.”

“Bruce...”

He was just so sick of this. So sick of fucking Superman getting everything he wanted, the way people looked at him and saw some kind of god instead of the spoiled, brainless arrogant, lucky _bastard_ that Bruce knew he was. And when that mouth opened again, opened to give him another lecture, Bruce suddenly couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t listen to this bastard another _second_.

So, he punched him square in the jaw.

Years of training made the movement as easy as breathing, and the strong, lantern jawline was more than enough to provide a perfect target. Superman overbalanced easily, as top-heavy as he was, and his lip split open under the kryptonite ring, blood running from his lips and the look of surprise on Superman’s face was so utterly comical that Bruce couldn’t help but laugh.

Superman stared up at him from the floor, shock and confusion written clear on his face, while he wiped at the blood on his lip with a confused look. Not satisfied with that, Bruce drew back his leg and kicked the Man of Steel on the side of his face, hearing a satisfying _crack_ where his boot met the alien’s nose, and then stomping on his ribs when Superman curled backwards to escape against the wall, unknowingly bringing him even closer to the kryptonite laced inside.

“Bruce, what are you--?”

“Telling you to _shut up_ the way that you _deserve_.” Bruce spat, kneeling down on Superman’s level at last, slamming his head into the wall, the other side of his face already trying to heal over the bruise that had started to develop, but hindered by the toxic rock. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this? How much you _piss me off_? Constantly talking about how great you are when you haven’t had to suffer a fucking day in your _life_!”

He finally let up on Superman’s face, taking a half a step back to just look at the man recovering from his brief beating, not nearly enough for Bruce’s taste. He looked almost endearing like this, the Bat decided, all weak and helpless and splayed-out for him. He kind of wanted to see him more like that, make him really _suffer_ the shit that Bruce had been through, everything he had _sacrificed_.

His hands were smeared with blood when he grabbed Superman’s face, bringing it into his and mashing their mouths together, his tongue invading the alien’s with force. He could taste alien blood, and it was almost sweet to him rather than metallic, tasting like a man who had never had anything but fortune in his life. Superman’s hands shoved at him, only earning him a batarang to his thigh, one that quickly drew blood when the razor pressed against his suit, jamming it in tight and earning a scream of pain in his mouth, one quickly joined when two more were added, tearing flesh and making blood flow.

Superman stopped struggling after that.

“Much better.” The Bat said with a smile, before shoving his fist into the Man of Steel’s mouth, pliers in hand. He wrenched free a tooth, obnoxiously white and clean, tossing it aside, earning a howl of pain that was quickly silenced with a grappling-hook gag, the wire tight-enough to slice into the sides of his cheeks, forcing a rag into his mouth behind it. “You know, people were right when they said you were a pretty boy. You’re still a virgin, aren’t you? At least for men you are.”

There was no answer, of course, save for tears starting to well up in the alien’s eyes, only earning a scoff of derision from the Bat. The bastard had no fucking _right_ to cry about this, so Bruce only leaned in again, kissing up his cheeks to taste those tears, sucking on his blood like a proper vampire bat, salty-sweet and metallic like they _should_ be from the metal of the wire, about fucking _time_ he started listening.

The rest of the suit was torn-away with a batarang, not caring for the cuts he was leaving along the untouched body of the Man of Steel. He took the time to leave bruising kisses along his shoulders and pectorals, sweet nothings whispered into tanned skin, with a cocky, sadistic smile right behind them. He pinched a pink nipple between his teeth, pulling it tight, and bit bruising marks onto his muscles, rubbing bloodied hands down his hips, while Superman’s body was forced to react, nipples peaking and a bulge developing right between his still-clothed hips from the attention and pain.

Bruce made careful care to slam an extending pole down onto the Man of Steel’s leg, snapping his ankle and making him unable to move, unable to get away. The scream that he let out this time was hardly more than a grunt this time, Superman apparently becoming so used to it that he was numbing, and Bruce wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not, but he was certainly enjoying the helplessness of it all.

He didn’t bother to tear Superman’s suit more than was needed when he turned him over on his knees, forcing his ass up in the air with a knife right against his spine, where Bruce’s back had been broken all of those years ago. The kryptonite ring Superman had given him stood-out sickly green against his bloodied hand, and Bruce was tempted to just drive the knife in and break Superman’s back in turn, but he wouldn’t be able to feel it then, would he?

“You know, you’re a very pretty man, Kal-El.” Bruce finally said while he spread Superman’s hole. “I’m glad I get to be your first.”

The only sound he got in reply was a choked sob.

He slammed his cock in without any hesitation, any deliberation. Less about his own pleasure, more about watching the alien scream. He did scream—at first. But after a few, short minutes, he didn’t do much more than whimper, something Bruce was perfectly happy with, only stopping to yank off the grappling wire to grab Superman’s mouth and kiss him again.

He fucked him several times, spilling over and over, Superman’s ruined ass bloodied and bruised. Shoving Superman against the floor with his boot, he gave one last stomp to his ribs, leaving a satisfying crack.

“Well? Are you going to talk?” Bruce asked, a sneer on his lips.

Superman didn’t say anything, his eyes dull and dark and looking at nothing. Not for a good few minutes.

“I loved you.” He finally said. “I would have...before...”

“You still get to now. I’ll come back to get you.” Bruce said flippantly. “You know who you belong to.”

He left Superman there, in the dark.

Justice, he thought, was finally served.

**Author's Note:**

> This was 100% written as a spitefic against the absolute glut of Injustice SuperBat fic wherein Clark suddenly becomes an OOC rapist because of Lois's death, and venting about it.
> 
> That being said, if this is your thing, go ahead and enjoy it. I don't mind either way.


End file.
